


With Age Comes Grace

by CoyoteGhost



Series: Devotion [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Blow Jobs, Jesse is kind of a little shit, M/M, Sexual Tension, but in a good way, jesse mccree - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteGhost/pseuds/CoyoteGhost
Summary: "Well, you're right about one thing," he said. His head dropped back to where it had been, placing a firm kiss against the corner of Gabe's lips. "You're old as shit, man."OrJesse needs some proper motivation during training. Gabe is more than willing to help.





	With Age Comes Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! Finally some fun times between these two.

Gabriel would like to say 'with age comes grace,' but Jesse had all the finesse of a dying goose. For fuck's sake, this kid was a covert ops in training. How much more inept could he get? The answer was apparently _a whole fucking lot_. He'd been running this obstacle course for, what, four, maybe five days? But every single time, he failed at the same section. All he had to do was sneak up behind a man and disarm him, something he had done at least a thousand times before. Yet every time, he faltered. Gabe had even tried changing up which agent took the roll of the target, had told the kid to take off those fucking spurs and change into standard clothing, but it was to no avail. Eventually, Reyes dismissed all of his other agents, but kept McCree behind to talk to him.

He already had the look of a kicked pup (he hated those big brown eyes, damnit), and Gabriel couldn't help but let some of the frustration out of his body.

"Honest, boss, I really don't know why I keep failing!" Jesse began, his own exasperation bleeding into his speech, "I've tried everything you told me, but I can't seem to get it. Not like I ain't trying, either."

Gabe would agree with that. The kid seemed like he was almost trying his damn hardest out there. Hell, if he was willing to get rid of his beloved spurs (he had _named_ the stupid things, for fuck's sake), then he really was putting in a valiant effort.

But maybe he lacked the proper motivation.

After that one weird little cuddle session, Reyes did _not_  talk about that, or any other type of fraternization, with McCree. Instead, it became a bizarre ritual between them; Jesse would come to him at random and, if Gabriel wasn't talking with someone, he would allow the kid to sit in his lap and snuggle up while he did his paperwork. It was hard to do it, but he didn't have the heart to say no to Jesse.

Of all of the ways Deadlock could've fucked the kid up, Gabriel felt that the denial and complete obliteration of human trust, of human _connection_ , was the most damnable offense. Jesse had been set on a course of self-destruction, one that seemed to no longer fit him, but also one that he wouldn't - couldn't - stray from. He didn't seem to know how to leave. As such, Jesse had become internally turbulent. He was frustrated, disconnected, scared, and with the exception of nurse Hudson (God bless that man), Gabe knew that better than most. McCree's faith was like a razor in his own skin; it was searing and painful and sharp, something he had grown to keep to himself, maybe completely sever, instead of giving it to others. But Gabe would never blame him for that. He understood Jesse, in the severing of ties.

For years, he had cut all meaningful relationships away until only he himself was left; he distanced himself from Jack and even Ana (but she often forced him to spend time with her), although Fareeha he was still close with. It was hard not to be when she would quite literally hang off of him. She was almost enough to make him want a family of his own, if he ever left Overwatch. Gabriel still had a family outside of the military, sure; he had his mother, his sisters, and all of his many nieces and nephews, but he felt so disconnected from their lives that he always felt guilty for even sending letters instead of visiting. The next closest thing he had to family was his agents. They were his sword and shield, they had his back, they gave him everything, and Gabriel gave that right back in return. Much in the same way, Blackwatch was the closest thing that Jesse could ever have as a family. Captured and forced to work with his abductors, Gabriel felt guilt about the sick irony that was Jesse McCree.

It felt almost sacrilegious. The wilderness was an empire of divine, beautiful chaos, unbridled and unburdened by the ways of man. It was ever-shifting, its red sand flowing like a broken hourglass; a place where time had no true claim. It was there that Jesse thrived. He was a child of the glorious desert sun, his darkened skin a sign of its reverent love. And how could he not be utterly and absolutely loved? His laugh was like the crackle of fire and his touch was just as burning, yet still there was kindness, like a cool desert night. An equilibrium of perfect harmony and discord. Jesse deserved to live untouched by mankind, untamed like the world around him. If Deadlock had never entered the picture, Gabriel was certain that Blackwatch would've never had to have taken a wild beauty from his home, his own resplendent kingdom. Yet here he was, taking something free and placing it in chains.

But Gabriel had become mildly concerned about those chains. As time progressed, Jesse was more zealous, more devout and loyal, towards his commander. He was starting to seem to _enjoy_  his restrains. Like a wolf who finally realized that man could provide him with all of his heart's desires, if only he chose to obey. The kid was still feral, yes, but like a dog brought to heel, he was starting to realize that obedience in the right hands was all he would ever wish for.

Gabriel let out a sigh, every ounce of his previous frustration dissipating. He felt like this was about to be an abuse of the kid's devotion, and as such, he prepared for the oncoming broken-heartedness.

"Right now," Gabe said, his voice becoming austere, "I'm going to help you, but if you can't get this by the end of the day, you're going to have to stop coming to me. If it's distracting you this much, you shouldn't even be doing it in the first place."

And there it was. Those dark doe eyes flashed with distress, enough to make Gabe want to retract his warning. It was necessary, he told himself. Although it was more or less a test of Jesse's obedience, Gabriel couldn't help the dark thoughts coursing through his veins; how far did Jesse's actual trust in him go? How deadly could he be, if Gabriel commanded it? More importantly, how far did his _own_  trust go with Jesse?

Without straying too far into his mind, Gabe watched as the kid's hurt was replaced with a blazing determination. Thank God. He honesty felt bad for even proposing they stop their ritual. It would be hard to stop, but with the way Jesse was fired up and ready to go, he felt reassured that it would continue. With a feeling of relief and satisfaction, he walked to the position where the target was supposed to stand, back to McCree to allow him a moment to establish a game plan.

"I won't make you do the rest of the obstacle course; you've got that shit down. All you have to is try to come up behind me and disarm me."

As Gabriel pulled a small knife from his boot (a common practice in Blackwatch), he had to admit that this was a bit of an unfair scenario. Thanks to SEP he could hear pretty damn good. If Jesse couldn't sneak up on a regular agent, he really probably wouldn't be able to sneak behind a super soldier. Still, he knew Jesse would give it his all now, and he waited patiently as he listened for movement. Gabe could here a brief shuffling sound from behind him, but that was about it. After that, it was quiet.

For a long time, absolutely nothing happened. No movement, no noise, no nothing. Maybe Jesse had left him standing there like a fool? No, Reyes highly doubted that. He wouldn't just up and leave, and even if he did, the gym door was as old as dirt and groaned every time someone tried use it. So what was the kid doing? This was where Gabriel's trust in Jesse would have to come into play. Back turned, completely exposed, and completely vulnerable, there were plenty of scenarios that Gabe could think of where he was injured for his faith. Worse were the unsettling thoughts of McCree having to be 'neutralized' (Gabriel couldn't lie, he would have to kill Jesse if he _really_  wanted to caused detrimental harm to his Commander; the kid wouldn't stop fighting until one of them was dead).

Gabe had to move. He was getting stiff from standing so long, and anything was better than thinking himself to death. Stretching couldn't hurt, right?

Wrong.

As soon as he began to shift, the kid was on him like a feral dog, grabbing his wrist and twisting as much as he could to disarm Gabe. Fuck, it actually _hurt_. Reyes, reacting more to the surprise than the pain, flung Jesse as far away from himself as he could. The kid tumbled and rolled a bit before landing a good distance away, his body limp, his back facing away from Gabriel.

A few seconds later, and Gabe realized that McCree was not Jack (or even a healthily muscled agent), and that he could potentially get seriously wounded by being tossed around like a rag doll. The Commander was almost concerned until Jesse gave a very proud (and slightly dazed) laugh. In one lazy motion, the kid rolled onto his back and held up his hand. The knife glinted triumphantly under the fluorescent lighting.

"What the fuck was that, kid?" Gabriel couldn't help but let out an amused, if not slightly incredulously, laugh of his own. "Also, did you really attack me in sock feet?"

Jesse smiled widely as he pulled himself into sitting position. He wiggles his toes with joy as he looked up to face Gabe, giving the small knife back to its owner. "You better fucking believe I did! I thought you'd be more likely to hear me if I kept my boots on, and it seems taking them off paid nicely."

Gabe rolled his eyes as he offered a hand to the young recruit, which was taken graciously. "Come on, kid, I have paperwork to do. Go get yourself showered up."

\-----

The last thing Gabriel wanted was to end the day with a visit from Jack fucking Morrison. As soon as he had gotten back from training with McCree, he'd entered his office to an infuriating sight; Jack was sitting in his office chair (a _huge_  negative in Gabe's book), playing with one of his many black pens.

"Can I help you?" Gabe all but hissed. He threw his bag down with some restraint, but it was still too rough to be considered amiable.

Jack stood slowly, as if it took great effort, and walked around to Gabriel. He looked... tired. Or perhaps he was just jaded. Jack wasn't wary, wasn't cautious, but even still he knew better than to step into Reyes's personal space. He could only push his luck so much.

"We need to talk, Gabe."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, snatching the pen back as he made his way to the desk. "What is it about this time? Did we not jump through enough hoops for the UN's liking? Or did I screw up on some paperwork? Whatever it is, make it brief. I have shit to do."

Jack's face flushed a dark red as he attempted to rein in his temper. A rather futile task.

"It's about the fucking kid," he started, stomping his way back to Reyes. "What I would like to know is why some of _your_ agents are coming to _me_  with complaints. They're saying you're too lenient with him, showing partiality and devoting too much time to him. You're trusting him way too much, Gabe, and I'm just here to make sure you don't make a mistake."

Betrayal. Gabriel could feel its familiar sting in the back of his skull as he processed exactly what Jack had just laid before him. Were his agents really reporting these things? And to the Strike Commander nonetheless. They never did that. Most of his men had the backbone to come to their own Commander if they had a complaint; hell, the first few weeks that Jesse had been recruited, he had a fucking _line_  outside of his door. Something didn't sit right with him. Even if the behavior was reported, most of Blackwatch treated Jesse like Gabe did. They doted on him, pushed him when necessary, helped him get adjusted and feel less alone (he was unspeakably proud of his men for that). Even those who despised the newest recruit kept their interactions civil, accepting the fact that McCree was there to stay. Sometimes they even worked out their differences. Jack's proposition just seemed so... odd.

Almost as if sensing he was being talked about, Jesse quietly slipped into the room (Athena had been instructed to let him in unless stated otherwise) and trotted happily towards Reyes. Upon seeing Morrison, however, his cheerful demeanor quickly evaporated. The kid was a little soggy, his long hair wet and falling limply into his eyes. His grey standard-issue fatigues were still too large on him. His sweats hung loosely and a little lopsidedly around his waist, his left hipbone jutting out just enough to reveal his tanned skin. His shirt was gathered up tight just a little above his pants and tied in the back with a hairband (something the women of Blackwatch had taught him to do), and his feet were bare. A very attractive sight, but Gabe felt like slamming his head into the wall for even thinking that.

Another thing he noticed; even with the distance between them, Gabriel could see very clearly that Jesse was bristling. Jack was an unwelcome presence. Whether it was Jack avoiding Jesse, or Jesse avoiding Jack, the two hadn't been face to face with each other since the Arkansas incident. With careful, minuscule steps, the kid began to inch forward. Watching, waiting, circling.

"Afternoon, Strike Commander. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

His tone held thinly-veiled contempt, made even thinner by the reiteration of what McCree had said to Jack before getting shot. To add to it, the grin he displayed was more of a threatening flash of teeth than a smile. His posture was forcefully ramrod straight, but Reyes could see the way his body began to lower itself. It was a clear indication of impending war. Yet Jack seemed none the wiser that he was being sized up; he only seemed irritated by McCree's bitterness. He wasn't even vaguely tuned into Jesse's way of thinking or any of his tics, his behaviors. But Gabe knew better.

Both Jack and Gabriel were trained to read others. They needed the skill for different reasons, sure (Gabe needed it for his missions, Jack needed it for public relations), but McCree was a whole new beast. Larger, more common shifts in his tone and body language were easily covered up or even manipulated. Especially manipulated. He was good at that, at lulling others into a false sense of whatever it was that Jesse wanted them to feel. It was a huge asset, but it was also a pain in the ass to figure out. What was real, and what was a false pretense?

With enough observation, Gabe had eventually picked up on the subtle changes of Jesse's body, the infinitesimal ways of his expressions. He could see the way his eyes would shift with changing emotion, the flare of his nostrils and the twitch of his lips, the faint movement of his eyebrows. The language he spoke was a sharp and complex one, made for mastering and fooling men, but Gabriel had begun to read it with increasing precision. More importantly, he was beginning to speak it. In this way, his interactions with McCree were becoming smooth, like a well-oiled machine, and the kid listened infinitely better to that than anything else. With one look, one shift in an expression, an entire message could be easily conveyed with alarming accuracy.

It was a language of dynamics, and it was one that Jack was painfully ignorant of. His eyes weren't watching for any of the kid's nonverbal cues, his body too relaxed like nothing could hurt him. All in all, Jack just seemed to assume that he was safe, that Reyes wouldn't attack him and that even if the kid tried to, he couldn't do any lasting damage. Oh man, was he wrong. He was blissfully unaware that he was a target for absolute, guaranteed bloodshed. It was something that Gabe had to prevent, for all of their sakes. At the same time, drawing Jack's attention to his dangerous predicament wouldn't end well for anybody. In order to stop anything, though, he had to get Jesse to look at him.

A sharp click of his tongue was enough to catch the kid's attention, and thankfully Jack didn't seem to notice. Jesse knew exactly what Gabe wanted, but almost automatically his eyes were back to tracking Jack. That wouldn't stand. Again, Gabriel did the exact same thing. It was a subtle yet insistent demand for attention. This time, McCree tore his eyes away from Morrison and held his stare. Finally having Jesse fully focused on him, Gabriel locked their eyes, forcefully conveying his message. A warning.

_Don't you fucking dare._

For a moment, Jesse seemed to resist the command. The corners of his lips twitched as if to form a scowl, eyebrows faintly furrowed, but not a second later his eyes were averted. He no longer looked at Jack. After a few more seconds passed, the threatening posture turned more into a slouch. Submission. With quiet steps, McCree moved to stand by Reyes's desk. He eyed Morrison with suspiciously, perhaps vaguely with disdain, but otherwise he kept silent.

Jack huffed, still frustrated but subdued by the presence of McCree. He never was one to talk about someone standing right in front of him. "You had reports to file, right? I suppose we can talk about this some other time." With one last look of warning shot towards Gabe, Jack left in a flurry of blue and white, the door slamming shut behind him. All that was left was Reyes and McCree.

Almost instantly, Gabe turned to chew Jesse out.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, incredulous frustration seeping into his words, "I hate Jack just as much as the next guy, but _attacking_  him?"

"I didn't attack him. Thought about it, but I didn't."

Gabe rolled his eyes, lightly chucking the pen at Jesse. Although he was still angry, he couldn't hold much against the kid. Jack got him shot up and then left him in the infirmary, never once apologizing for his lies and actions. If McCree was anything like the rest of Blackwatch (which he was), he was capable of holding a very long, bitter grudge. Perhaps Morrison would never be forgiven, at least not completely. That was fine with Gabe.

Although facing away from McCree, Reyes could still feel his eyes watching him expectantly, eagerly awaiting permission. It was almost as if the last few minutes hadn't even happened. Gabe rolled his eyes again, but he had to give the kid credit; in the short time that he had been here, he was becoming a delight as far as obedience went. He never listened to Jack, Ana, or anyone else, but he listened to Gabe. He still had his issues, sure, but that was to be expected. He was as bullheaded as he was smart, he knew when he made the right decision and he stuck by it. Jesse still acted impulsively, but he had good instincts, so Gabe wasn't particularly worried about wrangling that under control. The kid had done good. He deserved a reward, and if cuddling was what he chose, then who was Reyes to stop him?

"Athena, lock the door. If anyone asks, _especially_ Morrison, I'm in a meeting."

Gabe patted his lap as he reached over to retrieve a stack of papers from a bin, and almost automatically it was filled. Jesse was nothing if not cuddlesome. Like before, long arms found themselves wrapped loosely around Gabe's neck, and Jesse straddled his thighs before comfortably settling down between them. Just like every other time this happened, Reyes felt that he almost had to hold his breath. His body was tense. He could not give away anything in regards to how he felt.

"A meeting? Do you think he'll buy that?" McCree asked. The way his lips almost mouthed the words against his throat was _not_ helping. Gently, almost shyly, Jesse nosed against his neck, his breath warm, his touch tender. This was uncharted territory, something Gabriel refused to think about, because how could this ever actually happen? He'd learned a long time ago to keep your expectations very, very low. He had to take deep breaths, had to think rationally, but the way McCree pressed his lips against his neck, his collarbone, his jaw made it very hard to do much of anything.

A brief surge of guilt overtook any pleasant feelings he had on the situation. McCree was _nineteen_ , and he himself was thirty-nine. He was a full-fledged adult running around with shotguns and SEP serum by the time Jesse was born. Was this the supposed 'mistake' that Jack was trying to prevent? _Was_ this a mistake?

"You alright, boss?"

Suddenly Gabe realized that the kisses had stopped, and that McCree was staring him straight in the face. He didn't yet look rejected, but he seemed hesitant to do much more than breathe. Reyes could only give a very bitter sigh. Damnit, Jack.

"I'm fine, kid. Beyond fine. But we really need to talk about this first."

"Seriously?" The deadpan look Jesse gave him made Gabe roll his eyes for the thousandth time that day, flicking him soundly on his forehead.

"Yes, seriously," Gabriel said, watching as McCree hissed and rubbed his now-red forehead with amusement. That feeling quickly left, but thankfully it made him feel less stressed. "Really though, Jesse. Think about it; I'm thirty-nine, you're just now turning nineteen. I'm an old man _and_ I'm your commanding officer. This is technically illegal, something that could land you ass in supermax even if it's just a one-time thing."

McCree looked thoughtful, perhaps even solemn, just as he had when Gabriel first met him. Always going through the pros and cons, always trying to find the best option. Then, without warning, his face became bright and (much to Gabe's dismay) rather mischievous.

"Well, you're right about one thing," he said. His head dropped back to where it had been, placing a firm kiss against the corner of Gabe's lips. "You're old as shit, man."

That little punk. Reyes opened his mouth to refute that statement, to say anything, really, but Jesse, ever the opportunist, used that against him. His lips were on Gabriel's as if he might disappear, his tongue slipping into his mouth with ease. Gabe could only respond in kind.

Jesse shifted his hands down without reluctance. Gabriel nearly jumped out of his skin when McCree's hand palmed lightly against his crotch, and if the smile against his lips was anything to go by, Jesse was being a little shit on purpose. Two could play at that game.

With swift hands, Gabriel undid the hairband on McCree's shirt and yanked it over his head, throwing it God knows where in his office. His assault on the poor kid's skin was merciless. He severed their kiss and moved instead to Jesse's neck, scraping his teeth across its smooth expanse. After finding a spot that satisfied him, Gabe bit down probably a bit too harshly (much to his delight, though, Jesse seemed to react eagerly to the small bit of pain) and suckled until a vivid red mark tainted the dark skin. The process was repeated over and over, up and down his neck, on his collarbone, even on his shoulders, all while Gabe nudged his knees apart and palmed at Jesse's growing erection. Having moved back up to his abused neck, beneath Gabe's lips, he could feel the sporadic fluttering of Jesse's heart. It was beating like a hummingbird; he could even hear it if he focused enough, but it was hard over to over the panting in his ear. The kid was rendered useless by the onslaught.

"Stand up," Reyes commanded, and Jesse tried to listen, he really did. His legs were trembling. Without another thought, Gabe pushed McCree onto the clearest spot on his desk, then pushed the rest into the floor with one sweeping motion. It would be a bitch to clean up, but that was future-him's problem. Right now, his mind was on the panting, flustered mess on his desk. In one fell swoop, Gabe yanked off both Jesse's sweats and his boxers, leaving him bare, and fuck, was it a beautiful sight. Although still slightly bony, he had started to fill out nicely. His arms and legs were supple, and his skin, littered with scars and cuts and bruises, had never seemed so appealing. For such a little thing, Gabe was taken aback by how well-endowed McCree was. If anything, it explained his attitude a bit.

"Fuck, Jess." Lowering his head, Gabriel began to kiss Jesse's inner thighs. He could feel the kid start to writhe the farther up he got. Without much of a warning, he licked a broad stripe up McCree's dick before settling down and taking the head into his mouth. The sounds Jesse made were just plain _sinful_ , and he bucked his hips up without restraint. Placing his hands almost painfully against the other's hips, Gabe started to move and take the full length of McCree's dick in his mouth, setting a torturously slow pace. Gabe could feel fingers working their way into his hair, trying to force him to go faster, to have mercy.

"Ah- shit, Gabe. Come on! Please- fuck, please!" Jesse begged so nicely. He was spewing incoherent garble at this point, but still, who was Reyes to deny him since he asked kindly? Gabriel rewarded him, bobbing his head at a faster pace. He could feel McCree's legs wrap around his head and forcefully pull him closer. With the way the kid was pulling his hair, he was certain there would be some loose strands once he stood up, but the pain only pushed Reyes to lavish Jesse more. When Gabe swallowed around his dick, he could hear the other man's moans lodge in his throat and come out as choked noises. Bingo. Once more, and Reyes felt Jesse's back arch off of his desk and his body tense, the legs around him tightening, suffocating him while the hands yanked impossibly harder. Bitter seed shot down his throat, and Gabriel didn't move away until he milked McCree for all he was worth.

As Jesse's body loosened and Gabe pulled away, a moment of silence passed between them. The kid was abso-fucking-lutely blissed out. With a roll of his eyes (God, he really had to stop doing that), Gabriel scooped him up and settled back down into his chair, cuddling him up against his chest while Jesse slowly came back to earth.

"Fuck, man," Jesse muttered, dazed and grinning like an idiot. His hands came up to rub at his neck. Honestly it looked like he'd gotten attacked with how many bruises Gabe left, but he could never pass them off as anything other than hickeys. That would be a bitch to cover up.

"Here, give me just a second." Scooting forwards, Gabe began to rummage in one of his desk draws with his free hand, holding Jesse tightly with the other. Eventually he found what he was looking for; a large red bandana. It was one that he'd gotten on a mission in Spain, and he normally kept it in his office just in case he ever spilled his coffee. Thankfully it was clean. Laying it on his desk, he gently nudged Jesse up and helped him find his clothes, and with a gentle motion, he wrapped the clothe around McCree's neck. It was large enough that it covered the hickeys, and it didn't really look out of place. It obviously made the kid happy, too. He grabbed at it giddily, smiling like an absolute dork. It seemed like a good replacement for the serape that he had with him before it was taken as 'evidence'. He would have to get that back, eventually.

"I have to do _actual_ paperwork now," Gabe said, picking up the discarded papers on the floor. "And you have training tomorrow. Go get some rest, Jess."

Before McCree could complain, Reyes gave him a soft, chaste kiss on the lips. This kid was making him a tender-hearted bastard, and with the mischievous smile that he wore as he left the room, Jesse obviously knew it, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to point out any grammatical and spelling errors! I don't have a beta, so sometimes I miss things. Thank you!


End file.
